RanKen Christmad Carol
by xrhayne
Summary: REPOST Poor Ken. Guess Who's scrooge?


Disclaimer: Awww, let's see… on my wish list this Christmas, I wish to own of Weiss… yeah right… not gonna happen in this lifetime… but it's nice to dream… (think of all the RanKen action potential… Hentaiyarou author gets bopped!)

Title: A Ran x Ken Christmas Carol

Author: xrhayne (writing under 83rd Twilight)

Genre: drama, angst, romance and -fluff?

Main Pairing: RanxKen of course, mentioned, OmixNagi

Warnings: This story I slash, shounen ai, yaoi, malexmale, etc, etc. so if it's not your kind of flavor that's fine, might I suggest some other fluffy Holiday fic somewhere.

Oh yeah other warnings, the usual: language, situations… This might get fluffy (shudders)… or not…

This is cliché stuff, but I haven't read a fic done the RanKen style and it's been nagging me for several days now so…

Here's my very loose take on "A Christmas Carol": RanKen Style. Guess who gets to be Scrooge?

Like you wouldn't figure that one out: )

Story time…

A Ran x Ken Christmas Carol by xrhayne (writing under 83rd Twilight)

A loud noise reverberated through the empty second floor hallway as a door was slammed none too gently. The whole place was eerily dark, foreboding and dreary for December evening. Footsteps were heard rushing down the concrete steps and moments later another bang of a door being shut echoed softly from main entrance downstairs.

Inside one of the rooms, the sole occupant of the whole building at present time was sitting on a neatly made bed, one knee drawn up to support an elbow, and looking out the open, slightly foggy glass window. The thick, black turtleneck sweater and matching black jeans gave little protection to that pale and lean frame from the chilly winter breeze that seemed to enter with a sense of spitefulness in the dimly lit room, only to be mirrored by the callousness of a numbing heart that could be found within.

He liked it that way. One could almost say that he, Ran, a.k.a Aya, Fujimiya, welcomed it with open arms. The cold, the chill, the iciness, the frosty countenance of winter. Earlier this evening he had been accused of being the most insensitive, most cruel-hearted, rudest, meanest, grouchiest, saddest, most despicable bastard in existence.

How could one ever beat that?

Oh well, he believed that he had worked extra hard to deserve those titles. He took them as compliments rather than the hard-slung insults they were supposed to be. Why should he be particularly nice just because the Holiday season was here? Why should he be any different just because people around him celebrate a hideously hypocritical occasion called Christmas?

Think about it, most people run around all nice, wearing goofy smiles, and waste hard earned money to give others ridiculously overrated presents for one day a year before reverting back to their own miserable selves for the rest of it. It never made much sense to him.

Perhaps there was a time when he had been one of those pathetically happy little souls who looked forward to the horribly Capitalistic invention of gift-giving that encouraged a lot of profiteering and unnecessary squandering of time, money, labor and other resources just for the sake of receiving some sort of empirical reciprocation or some other forms of emotional gratification.

But that had been in another place.

That was a time long gone.

That was another life.

He had learned since then that this season changed nothing. Most wishes will always just be wishful thinking. Problems will still be there the day after Christmas. The bills won't pay themselves away. His parents will still be dead tomorrow. His sister will still be lying on a coma-induced sleep when he wakes. His hands will still be stained with the unwashable crimson blood of his victims. He will still be a murderer come night time. He will still be alone. So he decided to take the practical path. Unlike the rest of the world, he would not to be an escapist during this time.

It was bad enough that he had to tolerate the plastic holiday décor and extra-cheeriness of the customers and his workmates at the flower shop, he had to deal with their pestering that he join winter wonderland as well all day? He cringed.

He told them in very few, carefully chosen words that included pathetic, ridiculous and moronic as adjectives that he would not, and would never participate in this farcical celebration just because everyone else decided to play charlatan and pretend that everything's all right in the world for one day.

Of course his blunt statements got him into a heated debate with the resident skirt-chaser that ended with someone walking out and someone nursing a bruised cheek.

It wasn't him.

That incident got the atmosphere quiet and he spent the rest of the day in peace, without the irritating buzz of off-keyed Christmas carols. Just the way he preferred it.

Then there was the recent spectacle of the evening: a heartfelt confession of attraction and some other form tender sentiment coming from a certain athletic brunette by the name of Ken Hidaka.

He laughed.

Seriously, that was what he did.

It wasn't like he could help it. Sure, the soccer-playing klutz was the perfect example of that pretty-boy-next-door archetype, and he had enjoyed several romps with the man considering that he cuts both ways, but a serious, emotional relationship? He didn't think so.

They were assassins. Murderers. Killers. The last thing they needed was emotional baggage when they set out to do their job. He was never one to be against mixing business with pleasure but attachment was another matter. He didn't know what the hell he did to make the brunette think he'd be welcoming anything more that a hard, decent fuck every now and then. He was pretty sure that he had been painstakingly clear on setting firm and concise lines that very first night. He remembered agreeing that their involvement would be nothing more than mutual physical release of tensions, hormones and extra adrenaline that usually comes after missions. That was it. There was nothing in their verbal agreement about some other emotional rubbish. He was certain that he never treated the younger man any differently outside their almost nightly encounters.

Ah but then, Ken had ever been the idealist who believed in silly notions of happily-ever-afters, of redemption and second chances, of miracles, of… love. The brunette's beauty, naiveté and ability to trust almost implicitly combined with that quick temper always seemed to get him in trouble. But these were the very qualities that Ran found amusing. Perhaps these were what drew him to the other man. The semblance of innocence and fire that he had lost somewhere long ago and those bloodstained hands that matched the weight of his sins was more than heady enough to make him indulge in the temptation of corrupting the younger man's romanticism with hot, passionate, uncomplicated lust.

Well, it was fun while it lasted. He would bet his money that Ken was out in some empty park or bar right now indulging in self pity, muttering strings of unhealthy expletives directed at one redhead, intoxicating that pretty little head with alcohol, while pouring his heart out to some random stranger, that most probably end up with him waking in some unfamiliar bed with some nameless face on Christmas morning.

Somehow the last scenario left an unsettling feeling on Ran's stomach that he chose to ignore. Why was he thinking of that man anyway? Perhaps he was just disappointed that he had lost his regularly available supply of a bedwarmer.

Hn. What was love anyway?

Ken had been quite nervous and hesitant when he approached and confessed. The softly spoken words of 'ai shiteru' resounded in his ears like some kind of foreign music. Unfamiliar, strange, incomprehensible, and somewhat funny. So he laughed.

He quickly realized that it wasn't the reaction his companion had been anticipating as the other started to hastily walk away with a look of anger and insult written all over that handsome, sun-kissed face. He recalled grabbing the younger man's arm and speaking in a low, mocking tone dripping with sarcasm.

"_Were you expecting some sort of affirmation on my part Kenken. Would you want me to say the words back? Because you know, that's quite easy. People often spout the words enough without meaning them."_

"_Let me go!"_

_The brunette tried to yank his hand out of the other's firm grip without much success._

"_Tell me do you want a declaration of undying devotion and eternal love?" Ran asked studying his companion's face._

_He found himself on the receiving end of a dark angry look._

"_Damn you to hell! How can you just stand there and mock my feelings for you!? I know for a fact that you might not care for me the same way, but least learn to respect me, you bastard!"_

_Ken would have punched him with his free hand had he not been able to reflexively block the blow._

_He looked at the other seriously._

"_I'm sure I'll see you in hell Ken. You know that I don't go in for that sentimental crap. And I don't want to hear it from my fuck buddy as well."_

"_Well fuck you!" The soccer player struggled against his hold once more, red-faced from humiliation rather than anger._

_He finally released the arm that he was holding before smugly replying._

"_Already done that. Not yet tonight though."_

_He watched as the other man strained to rein in that infamous temper._

"_You're a cold, unfeeling bastard Aya. I don't know why I had to fall in love with you, and waste my very limited time here on earth for the likes of you!"_

"_I didn't ask you to love me." He blandly replied._

"_But I did anyway," was the soft reply as Ken looked away._

_He raised an eyebrow._

"_Then that's hardly my fault now, is it?"_

_The other turned back and glared at him again._

"_You could have been a bit nicer about it, considering its Christmas!"_

"_Why should I? It's just some artificial, man-" he began._

"_Don't even continue that. I'm starting to think that you must have experienced a horribly traumatic event during Christmas when you were a child."_

_When he saw the other's face change from anger to what seemed like the beginning of sympathy he coldly interjected._

"_You don't know anything about my childhood, Hidaka."_

_The brunette answered him quite sedately._

"_Yes, I don't. But it must have been really terrible, for you to be much more sadistic during this time of year."_

_Now the tables were turned as Ran slowly lost his temper._

"_You're threading on a very thin ice." He gritted out._

_He heard an ironic chuckle._

"_Oh really? You're thickly encased enough both of us."_

"…"

_Out of the blue, Ken walked towards him and slammed him painfully on the wall and leaned towards him. For all of two seconds Ran thought the brunette would actually kiss him until stopped short about an inch away from his lips before hissing._

"_You know, one day you'll wake up and have reality bite you in the ass till you bleed and then you'll realize that you don't want to be alone anymore but nobody will be there because no one's willing enough to comfort a miserable, icy jerk like you!"_

_He looked straight into those blue green eyes._

"_I'm not dreaming to live that long anyway."_

_Tanned hands let go of his sweater._

"_I don't think you're even alive right now!"_

_He mentally sighed._

"_We're assassins… that's the closest thing to what is known as the walking dead."_

_Ken stared at him with an eerily calm resolve._

"_Wrong. We're assassins, it means we have one foot on the grave, so we have to cease each day and live."_

_He smiled sardonically._

"_How romantic."_

_The ex-professional soccer player laughed._

"_You wouldn't know romantic even if it was slapped in your face."_

"_Too true." He deadpanned._

_Ken had had enough. His tanned hands clenched and his body shook slightly in frustration._

"_You know what? Screw you. You'll never change. I don't know what possessed me to confess my feelings."_

_He just shrugged in response._

"_You and me both."_

_His younger teammate began to push past him._

"_I'm leaving, Aya. It's over. You might not want to talk to me for a while, unless by some Christmas miracle, you come to your senses. But I won't be waiting forever."_

_He spoke as soon as he heard the doorknob twist open._

"_Don't wait for me Ken. I won't be coming round."_

_A moment passed before he heard the passionate reply._

"_I see. Well then, Merry Christmas then you wretched, sadistic prick!"_

_And the door closed with a slam._

End Chapter 1

Reviews are much appreciated.

Note: As listed in my profile, I am currently organizing, retouching, reposting, and updating all my fanfics from my ex pen names: Kage-kurokawa and 83rd twilight under xrhayne. As well as posting my new fics under this new and final pen name.

Thanks


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